


Missing Moments

by HamiltonTrashPanda



Series: Drops of Red on Parchment Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Affection between men is important, Affectionate Hazel Levesque, Affectionate Percy Jackson, Angst, Betrayal, Brotherly Affection, Crossover, Divination, Dumbledore's Army, Eldritch, Gen, Hamilton References, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jason Grace Needs a Hug, Memories, Men Crying, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Song Lyrics, Stabbing, Vignette, What is Death?, non human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamiltonTrashPanda/pseuds/HamiltonTrashPanda
Summary: Get out of my head.The memories floated past him unbidden, and he looked up at the ceiling. His stomach twisted as he saw the stars, glimmering and twinkling.Very well.---When writing crossovers, moments from the books will have to be cut for the sake of the pacing. These are the missing moments from my fic "Drops of Red on Parchment".
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Original Character, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jason Grace & Hazel Levesque, Jason Grace & Percy Jackson, Original Character/Original Character, Percy Jackson & Harry Potter
Series: Drops of Red on Parchment Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154243
Comments: 62
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

“Chase, Annabeth.”

Annabeth perked up, and stepped forward, allowing the hat to be placed on her head. A voice spoke, sounding like it was coming from inside her head and outside it, disconcertingly. She frowned.

_Demigods at Hogwarts. Never thought I would see it_ , the voice, the hat, hummed.

_Ambitious, yes, you are quite Ambitious. You could have a path in Slytherin, do doubt, but your mother is the Lady Athena._ Annabeth glanced at Percy and swallowed, sweat prickling at the back of her neck. _Wise beyond your years. And you love to learn and discover new things._

_I used too,_ Annabeth corrected sagely, remembering what questing and discovering had her end up. Her face soured.

_Whatever you say, Lady Chase. May Athena and Metis guide you, for you will be in:_

“RAVENCLAW!”

Annabeth resisted the urge to grab her knives, and plastered on a fake smile and walked proudly to the blue and bronze table, all eyes on her.

* * *

“di Angelo, Nico.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sat, thin fingers gnawing at the edge of his ring as every eye lingered on him and the hat was placed on his head.

The hat was speaking to him, _Another demigod_ , it tsked. _Let’s see what you have, Ghost King._

His breaths quickened ever so slightly, and he could feel the hat in his head, in his memories. _A just man you are, Nico di Angelo. ‘The underworld has no mercy, only justice’ he quoted._

_How do you know that?_

_I have seen it, young one. I know what you have done, and know your sense of justice is high and holy. You value it. You wish to bring everyone to justice, no matter what._

_Get out of my head._ The memories floated past him unbidden, and he looked up at the ceiling. His stomach twisted as he saw the stars, glimmering and twinkling. 

_Very well._

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

He scowled as his tie turned yellow, tuning out the snickers from his friend. He walked over to the Hufflepuff table where his housemates watched him with caution. He cursed the hat, cursed his memories, and cursed the stars.

* * *

“Grace, Jason.”

Jason had watched as his friends got sorted, and the barely noticeable changes in demeanour about them, and knew whatever that hat did, it wasn’t fun. He proudly walked to the stool, mulling over what could have possibly made Annabeth and Nico falter the way he had seen. 

The hat was placed on his head, and the deep rumble of it spoke to him.

_Wise and Just the past two have been, let us see what this Lord brings. Brave, a great leader. Noble and kind, hardworking. A true Roman._ Jason couldn’t hide his wince.

_Hmmmmm, you are a tough choice, Son of Storms._

_Why did you call me that?_

The sorting hat did not answer, but the warmth in his mind reminded Jason of a coy smile. He frowned. The sorting hat thought, _Chivalry runs in your bones. And an undeniable grace, if you will._ The hat laughed, and Jason steeled his face, sensing what was coming.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Cheers erupted and Jason jogged over, a small smile on his face.

* * *

“Grace, Thalia.”

Thalia’s hands tightened slightly as that stupid name was called, but she walked forwards despite it all, posture as straight as a knife. She sat and made sure to make her face cold and distant, just in case anyone got the wrong idea about her.

The hat, which had likely never been washed, was placed upon her head, and for not the first time, Thalia wished that she had been able to keep on wearing her circlet. A voice filled her head.

_The lieutenant of Artemis,_ it said in her ear, causing her to glance around. It laughed _, All of you are so on edge. Hogwarts is a haven for many, why do you not see it? Especially you, Lieutenant Grace, with the forest so close by._

_My definition of safe is not the same as yours, old hat._

_Bold,_ it laughed again. _Yes, yes, it must be. You will join your brother in:_

“GRYFFINDOR!”

* * *

“Jackson, Perseus,” the witch called out, and Percy looked up from where he stood. He walked forward to the stool, and sat, eyes finding Annabeth as he sat. She smiled at him as the old hat was placed on his head.

_Such an interesting pattern your friends have made, sea-son. I wonder how you will fit into this..._ Percy straightened slightly as the voice filled his head. 

_Let’s see...quite loyal, no? Yes, you could do well in Hufflepuff. But there’s something else here, isn’t there? You’re quite the leader, and very resourceful aren’t you? And that loyalty, who is it to?_

_My friends?_ Percy replied after a second, realising the hat had asked him a question.

_Yes, yes. Selectively loyal, that’s what you are._

_Get on with it,_ he snapped. He glanced at Annabeth again.

_There’s no path for you there, destroyer._ Percy froze. _Better be:_

“SLYTHERIN!”

He swallowed smile and sent one more glance at Annabeth, before turning away and placing a faux air of ease around him. Easy enough.

* * *

Piper breathed in and out as Hazel was sorted, knowing she was next. And true to the order that Piper had figured out, her name “McLean, Piper,” was called out next. 

The hat was placed on her head, and for a moment there was silence. She breathed in. Breathed out. _Lady McLean._ She nearly jumped. The hat laughed lowly and spoke again, _You are not overly ambitious, wise, loyal, or brave._

She scowled, _Now wait a moment—_

_No harm meant…_ It drawled and she listened, _You subdue your emotions...yes...you do. Your mother is the fair Aphrodite, the daughter of only Ouranos. She was the spawn of treachery and the bringer of love. Your emotions are large and complicated._

It hummed. Piper longed for Katoptris, but she hadn’t been able to disguise it. _A charmspeaker, huh? You may not admit it my lady, but your charmspeak will forever grow with you. And I think it puts you in:_

“SLYTHERIN!” 

Piper walked to the table and sat next to a troubled person, never once forgetting the words the hat spoke to her.


	2. Chapter 2

> _“Though he’d trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with his shame.” - Kaz Brekker, Six of Crows_

* * *

He woke up panting for breath, sweat dripping down his face, the dream already fading from memory as his wild eyes darted around. He placed a hand on his chest as it rose and fell in quick bursts, his heartbeat like thunder in his chest.

“Jason?” Frank asked, having been awoken. 

“Go to sleep, Frank, I’m good.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just a nightmare,” Jason leaned back on his bed again, eyes searching in the dark. One vivid memory remained, a city on fire.

“Just a nightmare.”

* * *

It was not, just a nightmare. It came back again and again until it was every night that Jason was forced awake at the ungodly hours of the night. If this was Morpheus’s idea of humour, Jason wasn’t seeing it. 

Slowly, he pieced together the nightmare. The events leading up to the events in it were lost on Jason, nor did he much care to figure them out, but it always ended the same; New Rome on fire, and the death of all his friends while Jason could do nothing but watch.

It took a toll on him. He hadn’t meant to get Percy mad at him after he punched Malfoy, but he had. He hadn’t meant to leave New Rome this summer, and nor had Reyna or Frank meant to leave it without leaders. He hadn’t meant for a lot of things to happen, but they did.

He hoped that leaving Hogwarts for the winter would help before that stupid wizard forced their hands and they shipped themselves to London and the Order of the Pheonix’s headquarters. Grimmauld Place didn’t necessarily make his nightmares worse, but they didn’t get better.

He began to stay up late, falling asleep at the same hours he used to be thrown awake. He would sleep in, very un-roman like, and miss breakfast, sometimes even lunch. He was keenly aware that his friends had no doubt noticed the pattern, but they all had their own demons this time of year. 

He was fine, at least compared to Nico, or Percy, or Annabeth, or Thalia. Fine, dandy, perfectly healthy. He just wanted to sleep. That was all. He was tired of the night and tired of the flames.

Gods of Olympus, he just wanted to _sleep_.

* * *

Hazel carefully walked up the stairs, carrying a tray of food, expertly dodging the Weasley twins as they rushed by. She came to the door to the room that the boys were staying in, and where Jason probably still slept.

She was worried about him. He had begun to sleep in irregular patterns, dark circles growing under his eyes. He only really came down for lunch, and according to the boys, he spent his waking hours drawing endlessly.

She knocked lightly and when she heard no reply, she opened the door, nudging the door open further with her foot. She saw him immediately, passed out on his bed, chest slowly rising and falling. She set the tray of food on his bedside table, before sitting next to him on the bed.

He stirred slightly, shifting in his half-conscious state. “Good morning,” She said softly, “Mrs. Weasley made you some food because you keep on missing breakfast. She got worried.”

His head turned to her, and his eyes fluttered open, “Hey Hazel,” he said, reaching out to her face, brushing it slightly. She took his hand, brushing her thumb over his, and he glanced at the still warm food, sitting up.

He ate quietly, Hazel sitting next to him, and scanning the room. Nico and Will shared a bed jammed into the corner, and Leo had a small bed near the door. Percy’s bed was the couch, obvious from the mess of tangled blankets and water bottles by the bed. Jason's bed was under the window in the room, and Frank also had a bed wedged into the corner.

Their trucks were piled about, and Riptide balanced precariously on the edge of the couch, a whetstone on the blankets. Hazel shook her head and used her powers to move Riptide so it wasn’t so visible.

She glanced at Jason again. He had finished his food and now sat on the bed next to her, tray to his left, leaning back on his palms. His eyes were closed, dark lashes fanned out across his scarred cheeks.

“Jason?”

“Hm?”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

His eyes shot open and met hers “I’ve been sleeping,” He protested.

She eyed him, taking in the fresh gauntness of his face and the bags under his eyes. They watched each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to break the silence. It was Jason who gave way first.

“I’ve been sleeping,” he sighed, “Just not well.”

That’s what she had thought. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve had this nightmare for months. Since September, since…” he didn’t need to finish the sentence. “I always see the same thing. New Rome, my home, on fire and destroyed. And all of you-” he lurched forward as a sob escaped him, hands on his knees and his palms digging into his face.

  
  
“All of you dead. And I can’t do anything!” He stands up, and paces “I can’t fix it! I couldn’t save you! I can’t-'' he kicks a trunk, moving it slightly. He stands in the middle of the room, heaving for breath. She doesn’t have to see him too know that he’s crying “I don’t want to lose anyone.”

His voice is quiet now, shaking with every word. He turns and walks to her, hands shaking as he reaches out to her. She stays still, watching him. His hands ball into fists in her shirt, and he hangs his head as the sobs echo in his chest. 

She gets off the bed and hugs him, hands slowly carding through his hair. He pulls back and his red eyes search her serene face, and he gives a watery smile. “I love you guys so much.”

She smiles at him and plants a kiss on his forehead. He dips his head, hands resting listlessly on his folded legs. “I do not think this,” she gestures widely, “will remain, Jason. We’ve faced worse.”

“Talk to Percy,” she advises him, “he’s had his fair share of nightmares. He cares about you Jason, we all do. You can ask for help sometimes, you know?” 

“Thank you, Hazel. You’re too good for this world.” She laughs, standing up, and offers her hand. He takes it and pulls himself up, wiping away the tears, and beating the dust off his sweats. 

“You’re a good man Jason. If we were to die, I know you wouldn’t stand by. You would fight tooth and nail,” she told him.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

* * *

Percy doesn’t look up as Jason approaches, but he knows his cousin heard him. He sits on the back porch, snow falling into his hair as he sharpens his sword in the dying light. 

“You sharpened it yesterday,” Jason says as he stands next to him. “And someone might see.”

“It’s fine, Jason. And I never got to finish sharpening yesterday, because we had dinner.” Jason nods, staying silent as he looks out in the snow. 

“What’s up?” Percy says after a moment. 

Jason's stomach twists as he remembers Hazel’s advice. He had told Piper too, and she had also said he needed to talk to Percy. He swallows and speaks, “I haven’t been sleeping well recently.”

“I noticed,” Percy says, but there's none of his usual sarcasm, or even any heat. 

Jason winced, “I’ve been having the same nightmare for months.”

He tells Percy about it in a low voice, sticking to any language but English. Percy listens silently, Riptide across his knees, casting a low glare. When he’s done, the tears prick at the back of his eyes but Percy remains silent.

“It’s not real, Jason,” is what he says first, “but that probably doesn’t help.” He laughs bitterly. “Here's what I would do: Send a letter to Chiron, and ask him to ask a Morpheus kid to help you out. They could probably brew something for you.”

“You don’t think it's showing me something to come?”

“No, I don’t think it is. Dreams are tricky, but this doesn’t feel like a dream that would want to tell you something. You barely remember most of it, anyways.” He sits there, and he suddenly speaks again “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Perce.” Percy stands.

“I know, I just...worry.” 

“That’s a good thing.” 

“I’m glad.”

Percy looks at him, “Get some rest, Jase. We have about an hour till dinner, so take a nap or something. See if that helps.”

Jason nods but doesn’t move. He gives Percy a sudden hug, craving his cousin's warmth. Percy reciprocates it, and presses his forehead to his, speaking in low Greek, to his friend, his ally, his cousin, _his brother_.

  
“ _Είστε ισχυρότεροι από αυτό,_ _Τζέισον_ _. Μην το αφήνεις να σε πληγώσει._ ” Jason smiles and turns to the house, his friend's words echoing in his head. Percy stood and watched him go, a sad sort of smile on his lips.

\---

***Translation: “You are stronger than this, Jason. Do not let this hurt you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another POV

_ Percy. Jackson. Is. Not. Human _ , Harry Potter's mind blared, sirens screaming for him to move, move, move, get out of the way. That was not human. That was not human. That was not human.

“The  _ half-breed _ . You, boy, are under arrest for murder and conspiring to undermine our Government.” The minister had said, sneering and laughing. His words seemed to snap Percy out of a daze, and his harsh eyes eyed his opponent. Harry blanched.

“I would not lie, Minister. You have no idea what you’re teetering on,” Percy warned, face dangerously calm, as red blood dribbled down the sharp planes of his face, and past his eye. One side of his face was red, the light making it shimmer slightly. Surely it was just a trick of the light. 

And then everything about him changed, and Harry Potter no longer recognised who stood in front of him. This was not Percy Jackson, who he had seen laughing with the darkly beautiful Piper McLean or walking arm in arm with the haunting Annabeth Chase.

_ He. Is. Not. Human. _

A sword was in his hands, inhumanly perfect like it had never been used before. But something warned Harry that she had been used before, to a bloody precision. An inhuman precision. The harsh smell of salt filled the dim room, and the man who stood in front of him looked like a king.

His eyes seemed to glow slightly, and Harry had the strange feeling that the ground upon which they all stand was seconds away from erupting. Harry Potter did not know why this was happening, who was standing in front of him but he knew it was not a human person. 

If Harry Potter were ever to lay an eye upon the Titan Lord Kronos, he would see the resemblance in an instant. For Percy, Perseus, Jackson was too much like his father. And his father was too much like his, and he was too much like his.

Perseus. Poseidon. Kronos. Ouranos.  _ Too much like your father. _

Harry Potter never really had a father, so he never understood the way that the faults of one can pass to his son. Nor was he the child of a god, so he does not feel the pull of power and understand how the lust for it transcends time and ages, and how when the godly blood flows in you, you will desire something, something you can’t grasp forever.

The legacy of Olympus is one of power and betrayal, and Harry Potter finds his eyes sneaking over to Marietta, shame and grief on her face. He can’t find it in himself to hate her. Hate is not what he wants to feel. He wants to feel safe. He’s never felt safe.

The flash of spells illuminate the room, but Perseus brings his sword up to deflect them in such a casual manner, it’s horrifying. But one makes it through, and the resounding crack that echoes off the stone as his arm breaks is loud and wrong. He hisses, blood dribbling onto the floor.

His eyes look up at the men closing in around him, narrowing as he sees something. He seems to be thinking about something, as the wind comes through the window and tussles his dark hair. 

A loud and high pitched whistle deafens the room, and Perseus leaps out the window, the only sound being a yell. Harry runs to the window. He sees a black blur across the night sky and the red flashes from the Aurors wands as they fire curses at him.

He dodges one.

Another one.

Another.

Ano-

The next few moments are all but a blur, but Harry can vividly remember the sight of a black blur falling through the night sky.    
  


A blur in the shape of a man.

Maybe Percy Jackson had some humanity left in him.


	4. Chapter 4

_To Praetors Zhang and Levesque_

_Late last night, Camp Jupiter was attacked, by wizards who called themselves death eaters. They attacked without warning, and we are still determining how they entered. We just received word, however, that the Amazons were attacked at the same time as us. They had fewer casualties, but Queen Hylla is reported to be in critical care. Camp Half-Blood was attacked as well, and Chiron requests that Perseus and Annabeth help him in finding the breach point. He says that they should have maps in their bags. Low casualties over there._

_Three hundred people are dead. Hundreds more are injured. My fellow centurions await your orders, but the people of New Rome are looking for answers as soon as possible. Please help us, we don’t know what to do. We don’t know what happened. They came quickly and quietly and without warning. This is a threat to us and the safety of not only New Rome but to Olympus._

_What are your orders?_

_-Centurion Hyatt Wallac e_


	5. Chapter 5

Teachers

Percy climbed the silver ladder into the divination classroom silently, dark robes shuffling loudly. When he stepped into the room, he had to take a moment to pause at the room that was both an incoherent mess and a kempt space. It reminded him of the old oracle’s attic and the hundreds of relics that gathered dust. 

Walking lightly to a table in the back, Percy sat down and watched the woman he had assumed to be his teacher. She was thin and reedy, that much Percy could tell despite the shawls she had draped all over her body. Her glasses were thick and round and seemed to enlarge her eyes. 

Those eyes roved over the students, and she kept a whimsical smile over her face until her eyes met Percy’s. They widened, and she looked away quickly. Percy fidgeted in his seat, scrunching up his nose as the incense that hung heavily in the air assaulted his nose. It didn’t smell bad; it was just incredibly strong. 

“Welcome class,” her voice was airy and mystical, almost like the oracle, but it sounded much more forced. He frowned. “How lovely to see you...not dead.” Her eyes flickered to Percy.

“I am Professor Trelawney, and I will be your divination teacher. Today we will start with something easy, for our new student,” She glanced at Percy again, and he swallowed as his classmates followed suit. “I will pass around cups of tea, for you to drink, for we shall be observing tea leaves today. Turn to page 13 for the translations of your leaves, and their meanings,”

Percy winced as he downed the tea quickly, not from the heat that didn’t bother him, but the taste. Percy was definitely not a fan of tea. But soon enough, it was gone and he looked at his leaves and the book.

The first thing he saw looked like a baseball bat. He squinted at it and glanced at his book. It looked almost similar to the...Percy took a moment to decipher the words...club. Which represented...an attack. 

Percy frowned, unsure how a monster would be able to get past the borders. He shrugged and glanced at the leaves again. He didn’t have even a second to try and figure any of the leaves out as he heard the rustling of fabrics to his left. He looked up and met the professor's bug eyes.

She flinched away at his harsh stare but composed herself quickly. “Let me have a look at your leaves, Mr. Jackson.” There was a peculiar and barely noticeable quaver in her voice as she spoke to him, and her hands seemed to tremble as she took his cup.

She took one look at the cup before her face paled and she set the tea on the table. She looked at him in fear, before turning away to another student. Percy watched her curiously for a bit, before turning back to his work. He didn’t find anything else.

Soon enough, the class was over and the students were filling out, but just as Percy was about to leave, the professor spoke. “Please stay behind for a moment, Mr. Jackson.” The quiver was more pronounced now.

Percy did as she asked, and when the trap door shut behind the final student, he looked at her. “What?” He asked tersely.

“Darkness follows you, child. You are in great danger,” She said, voice weak, eyes shining with tears. “Beware.”

He met her eyes sharply, unknowingly giving her the wolf stare. Her eyes met his, and a sudden clarity came over them. She tilted her head and frowned. “What are you?”

Percy stepped back, foot meeting the trapdoor. “Why does it matter to you?” He said voice strained.

“Something follows you. Something evil. Something...ancient. It is your past, your present, your future. It comes from...it comes from your father.” Percy froze, and Sybill closed her eyes, swaying slightly. “And his father before him. And his before him. And—” she shuddered.

Her eyes flew open and met him. He stepped back again. “Beware, boy—” 

Percy fled before she could finish, heart, pounding in his chest.

“—the midnight sky.” Sybill Trewlney said, eyes half-closed, and tears streaming down her face as blurry images of betrayal, love, and the midnight sky consumed her. 

* * *

Percy glanced up from where he was trying to read as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Umbridge, passed by his row again, watching them carefully. He went back to reading when she was gone.

The class passed in this easy pattern, and soon enough the bell was ringing and the students were silently packing up, some eyeing the woman watching them from the front. Percy passed by her on his way out, “Mr. Jackson,” she said in a sickly sweet voice, “Please stay behind.”

He swallowed as the final student left, remembering the incident with the Divination Teacher earlier. Umbridge sat at her desk, and Percy stood in front of her, thumb running over the cool metal of Riptide in his pocket for reassurance. “I just want to make sure you are settling in well here at Hogwarts.”

Percy nodded uncomfortably, and the Professor continued. “I heard the Divination teacher, Sybil, made you stay behind earlier. Is all well?”

Percy nodded, “Yeah, she just wanted to make sure I understood the material. Only a few people did Divination at my school in America. It was never my area of expertise.” He laughs nervously.

Umbridge smiles, “What was your school like? I must admit I’m  _ very _ curious.” 

The lie they spent weeks working on rolls off his tongue easily. “It was relaxed and flexible, and you learned according to what you wanted to master and what you were good at.” Umbridge nods. 

“Thank you Mr. Jackson. I hope you are settling in well.” 

He eyes her, wary. But then he turns on his heel and leaves. He does not trust her.


	6. Chapter 6

Poseidon danced with Amphitrite under the rays of the moon, smiling at her eternal beauty. He had forgotten it over the ages, but it felt like he was falling in love a second time. The silver light highlights her high cheeks and straight nose, and her upturned eyes glow in the low light.

They twirl, one hand at her waist, hers on his shoulder, and their other one extended out and clasped. The dance is from a time long since the past, but he somehow still remembers it. He dips her down into a kiss, thumb caressing her side. 

He’s pulling her up and then—

His head roars with pain, and he fights to focus. Her touch allows him to ground himself, and he finds the source of where this sudden pain is from. He sees his son in his mind's eye, and he stumbles back.

He’s lying next to a lake, hand brushing the water. Even in the dim light, Poseidon can see that his son's leg is very broken, the bone having broken through the skin. “Poseidon?” His wife asks, and he winces, sharing what he sees with her.

She gasps. “ _ No _ .” 

They look at eachother, confused and fearful. Poseidon can feel his sons energy through the water, and he pours his power into the water of the lake, trying to help his son. For a few seconds, he helps, but then the connection is severed. 

Poseidon closes his eyes, extending his mind so he can see his son. He sees his son, fighting desperately against the wizards, and he winces as Percy throws his destroyed leg around, embedding the knife in the man’s leg. He is dropped, and he rolls closer to the surf. His hand just touches the water.

Poseidon cannot feel his son the way he had before, only a wisp of the boy's soul. He pours his power into the water still, but it barely reaches the child. Percy loses consciousness, and the connection is severed. 

He pulls Amphitrite into a hug, eyes wide as he stares into space, already planning how to save his son.

* * *

He had intended to plan, extract his son carefully and quickly, maybe with the help of Triton. But then the prayer ripped through his mind and rage came over him.

_ Dad— _ His son prayed, forming a connection between them. Poseidon probed further, paling as his son’s body was assaulted with pain.  _ —Please—. _

His mind roared, and he screamed for his father.  _ Dad, please, please, make it stop. Dad, I don’t know what they want, what did I do, DAD— _ .

_ My son _ , he soothed. _ I am coming, my son. Hold on, child.  _

_ I’m tired, dad. _

_ I know.  _

His son was gone.

Poseidon rose, summoning his armour and his trident. He moved to rise from his throne, but a deep voice he did not know thundered in his head.

_ Remember the laws, son of Kronos. You cannot help your son.  _

_ How dare— _

_ Do not tell me what to dare. You swore on your blood and over the weapon of your enemy to protect the laws, and I will hold you to that promise. _

_ I am the earthshaker— _

_ I am Chaos, boy. I am the past, the present, the future. The laws are mine and you swore to protect them. Do not break this oath. This is not an oath of the Styx, and you know that. Perseus’s fate is not yours to control. _

_ Will my son live? _

And then the presence was gone, and Poseidon's question was left unanswered. He stood, shaking slightly. Then he fell to his knees and let loose a roar that came from the very depths of his soul.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Death doesn't discriminate  
> Between the sinners and the saints  
> It takes and it takes and it takes  
> And we keep living anyway  
> We rise and we fall and we break  
> And we make our mistakes  
> And if there's a reason I'm still alive  
> When everyone who loves me has died"

Nico watched the wizards as they filed into the room, taking it in awe. He stood in a shadowy corner on his own, his thin fingers toying with his ring, but never fully pulling it out. Some of them wore pyjamas, some more athletic clothes, and some a mix between the two. It really depended.

Nico was not keen on being here, but he slept so little anyway it made very little difference to his sleep schedule. The room exuded power and majesty in a way Nico had never felt from a room. It was disconcerting. 

The first meeting was simple, as they just learned Expelliarmus. While they had been learning magic over the summer, they all gained some semblance of control over the spell, but Nico had to admit that Harry was very adept at it.

Hazel, his partner, was the only one who matched Harry at all. And even then, Nico had the sneaking suspicion that Hazel was purposely holding back. He and her both knew that she held a lot more power than was necessary to admit. A lot of them did. 

Nico noted Hermione’s coins with interest, wondering if the demigods should make their own, far more powerful version of the coins. He glanced at Leo, and the son of Hephaestus' focused face revealed that he, too, had the idea on his mind.

Nico would have to remind Annabeth to mention it to Chiron in their next letter.

* * *

Nico did not like the sound of this, ‘Patronus Charm’. 

“Find your happiest memory, and latch onto it while you say the spell,” Harry told them. Nico frowned, wracking his mind for it. His happiest memory was likely long gone by way of the other, and so many of his current memories were overshadowed by the dark cloud of war. 

But he tried, and tried and tried. He thought of Hazel, of Will, of Reyna and all his friends. Nothing worked, and Percy’s Patronus, a seal, floated around him. Nico gritted his teeth, and his stupid mind conjured up the images that had stopped him from the happy ones.

Pomegranate seeds, a tight bronze jar. Ugly faces, and his own screams as he fought. He stepped back, remembering the light as it left him. He had never feared the dark, the suffocating dark, until that day.

Then he remembered.

The first time he had seen sunlight in  _ months _ . He was rescued, and the sun was shining on his face. Nico latched onto the memory, claimed it, and said the words. A bird erupted out of the tip of his wand. A great black vulture. He smiled.

* * *

Nico did not like being betrayed. 

He sat in the woods, basking in shadows, trying not to remember the sight of Percy falling through the air, and those screams. He fought the urge to look for Percy’s soul, terrified that he was gone.

Annabeth was asleep, her face troubled. Nico watched her, before tearing his eyes away.  _ Percy isn’t dead _ , he reminded himself.  _ His dad wouldn’t let that happen. _

That’s what he’d been trying to convince himself of the last week, but every day the chasm of despair grew wider, and death seemed much more real. Nico almost wished that Lord Poseidon would show up with a perfectly healthy Percy, and take them home.

Nico was tired of the wizards and their ambling magic, their stupid laws and backwards prejudices. If they could just get over themselves and work together, Nico wouldn’t have to be here, and maybe Percy wouldn’t be alone.

Nico knows the danger of being alone, but Percy didn’t choose to be alone like Nico did. He’s alone because the fates are cruel and hate people like Percy. Nico glances at Jason, Thalia, and Hazel, the only people who have ever understood.

He shivers and pulls his coat around himself tighter. He leans his head against the tree and closes his eyes, sudden sleepiness overcoming him. He is not aware of falling asleep, but he is aware that this is a dream when he opens his eyes and sees Persephone herself in front of him.

She looks at him, and he pauses at the anguish in her face. “Is Percy…”

“No, he’s not dead, my love.”

“What happened?”

“Chaos has intervened. Poseidon cannot help. I know you have wished for that to happen but…”

Nico looks at her, hopes crushed. “He’s going to die.”

“No, Nico,” He shakes his head, fighting the tears. She takes his hand, “That is not what the stars said, remember child? What they said?”

“Death is not what it once was…” Nico remembers, and Persephone nods.

“Almost, but not quite. Death is still what it has always been, but it is merciful,”

“The underworld _ has _ no mercy—” He protests.

“Death is not the underworld. The underworld is not death. The underworld is a land of justice, but death is not. It chooses what it wants. Heroes and Villains are both spared, but they’re also taken.”

_ Death doesn’t discriminate.  _

“Nico, be vigilant. Your father watches over you and your sister, but he cannot help you truly. But we are here, I swear on everything.”

Nico nods.

“What must we do then? If we can’t go to Percy because of Chaos,”

“Did you swear over the ancient laws?”

Nico meets her eyes and shakes his head.

“Survive child. You will know when your time comes around. We love you.”

  
And the dream fades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure what this is, but I hope you like it. Did you catch the Hozier and Hamilton references?  
> :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a treat for you guys ;)

“Open Hand, Closed Fist”

Percy was the first one to master the Patronus charm. He knew his happiest memory, as morbid and as horrible as it really was. 

His happiest memory was killing Gabe Ugliano.

The pain, the abuse, the hate was all gone the second his face turned to stone. Percy stood like a carven statue of his namesake, Riptide in hand, head bowed as Medusa’s head was held out in front of him.

Percy latched onto the memory, the dark light of release, and from the tip of his wand, blue light exploded. It jumped and whirled around the room, and slowly the shape of a seal formed from the light.

Percy smiled grimly, the sickle moon shining on his blade-sharp features.

* * *

“Wasteland, Baby!”

The first time Thalia kissed Reyna, all she could think was that this was the best and worst time to be kissing someone. The rain was falling in thick torrents around them, thanks dad, they were fighting for their lives, but the moon was shining.

Thalia wanted to kiss her until the day she died. Until their bodies were hewn on the ground until Olympus was really gone until the world was a wasteland until her baby was dead. 

The memories burned hot in her core, and in  _ all of our fear and the fire of the end of the world _ _ ,  _ her Patronus erupted from her wand. The dog, a labrador retriever, bounded around, born from memories of kisses.

* * *

“The Glamour and The Trauma”

Hazel knew her memory would have to do with her Mom.

So she thought of the good times, the hard times, but not a single thing was working. She remembered bright glimmers of colour, her Mom’s calloused hand holding hers. Hazel wished her Mom could see her now, see what she had become.

Hazel sat down for a moment, trying to remember her first life. Remember the diamonds in the rough. She remembered the sun and the stars in the form of lights, dust on her cheeks from Sammy and his silliness. 

People looked back on the time she grew up in as some golden age of living. They saw the parties of beauty not the trauma of living. Hazel thought and found the memory she was sure would work. Collecting and streamlining her thoughts, she remembered.

She had been at some dance. She didn’t remember much of anything beyond her mothers tinkling laugh, and swinging lights casting a golden glow. The memory took hold, and the smell of oil and spice drifted past her as her Patronus leapt out of her wand.

It was a bull that walked with surprising grace, slowly exploring the room before fading out by her side.

* * *

“Just Another White Lie”

The first thing the legion taught you was that your loyalties lied with it and only it. You could have a life outside of it, of course, but when it came between the legion and your personal life, the elders would always tell you that your choice should always be the legion.

Jason had lived and breathed that for years upon years, it was no surprise that his happiest memory was the day he didn’t. The day Jason Grace became an  _ actual fucking person _ , not something to be used, to be controlled. 

He’d grown up on white pillars supported by lie after damn lie, the truths, the cracks he couldn’t see, all over. He became his own person, took a silver hammer to the pillars of Rome, and in the death of his loyalty, he became his own.

His Patronus, a wolf, like the goddess who had first decided his loyalty, was the ruins of the pillars in his heart that refused to go, but he didn’t mind. He was Jason Grace, and his allegiance was to his heart. 

* * *

“Shun the Light”

_ Memories are dangerous, boy _ , Reyna wanted to tell Harry Potter as he talked about Patronuses. He did not understand. He would not understand.

Or maybe she didn’t understand. She could never separate memory from context, never hone in on the brief moments of joy in a clouded sky. And when you live on the edge of a gathering storm for all eternity, there is no memory where that storm is not on the horizon of the mind.

Or maybe…

Maybe there were.

Reyna thought of San Juan, of Hylla. She tried to clutch onto the memories of the before. Before her dad lost his mind before she killed her own kin. Before Orion destroyed and murdered before Skippy was lost to the world.

The good gave way to the bad, and she screams internally, crying for the sunlight. One memory, one clear ray of the San Juan sun, finds her.

She tackles it. Wraps her head around it, pulls it into her very being. She says the words, an old accent coming through, and a ram, horns curved and glistening, runs free.

* * *

“The Altar (Is My Hips)”

Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason.

Hands. Hands. Hands. Hands. Hands.

He and her. He and her. He and her. He and her. He and her.

That is her happiest memory.

Their altar of love, his perfection, her power. 

She smiles as she speaks the spell, and tilts her head curiously as the animal's shape comes to light. A snake, for cunning and rebirth. It’s fitting, she decides and goes to help someone else.

* * *

“Marching Through This World Alone”

Her happiest memory haunts her dreams.

Silver pride, rough hands on smooth ivory. The pride before the fall, before she marched through death and through destruction. His eyes, normally like stolen drops of the sea, glimmering like pearls, rage in her mind forever, the poison reflected in their depths, as the storm inside him releases.

But she knows what her happiest memory is, even if it’s just a picture in her head. Even if it's just the memory of a statue being pulled to a flying ship, and five seconds of thinking she was safe.

It’s a memory and the blue-light crow tells her that it’s enough.

She is enough.

(Ah la la la de day)

* * *

“You’ll Be Alright, No One Can Hurt You Now”

Saving lives was the best gift Will was ever given. 

Even if it means your arms will be coated in blood from fingertip to elbow, even if it means you pass out seconds later, even if it means that _ this is going to hurt _ , saving lives, hearing a heartbeat drum is the thing that keeps him going.

He admires the light of his bear Patronus, the cool blue disappearance that is so different from his hot yellow return. Light is home, light is good, light brings tether to those who long for death to take them. 

And when he can’t save a life, when he fails, light is what they see as they pass into the underworld, his promises of a better place where they’ll never have to fight again carrying them home.

* * *

“The Fifth In My Bones”

Family was all Frank Zhang had for a long time. His mom, and his grandmother. And then it became about his dad, who he was destined to be because of that. He wanted healing, he got war.

Gods, he had wanted so much in his life. He had wanted friends, he had got those. He wanted to be valued, he became Praetor over the heirs of Rome. He wanted a father, and he sorta got one.

He wanted life, he got death.

He wanted his mother.

She’s the main focus of his memory, a silly day where they laughed and shopped and drove, not a care in the world. She would leave a few days later and he would never see her alive again.

Maybe that’s why this is the one he holds dear, the pang of longing making it happy. He doesn’t know, too enthralled with watching his Scorpion Patronus scuttle through the air.

* * *

“Your Faith Walks On Broken Glass”

Dying hurt.

Leo hadn’t wanted to die when he flew up in the air to kill Gaea, but he knew that there was no option here. There was no end to his story that was good and painless. Dying hurt more than anything else in the cursed world he gave his life for. He just prayed the physician's cure would work and he could see Jason and Piper, sweet gods,  _ Piper _ , again.

Coming back hurt more. 

Death had been nice for the time he’d known it. There were no cares, no troubles, no masters or kings to dictate his fate. There was just...death.

But coming home, being alive, made up for all the pain. Seeing Piper, seeing Jason, breathing in strawberry air, is all that makes life good.

He remembers this all, and the dragon that rips from his wand tells the story for him.

* * *

“We Sing The Nightingale Song Alive”

“Papa?” A young Titaness asked her father as he watched the stars. “The stars are speaking.”

He looked at her, endless eyes, watching her softly. He picks her up, holding her close. “Yes my nightingale, they are speaking. What do they tell you?”

“Scary things. They speak of islands and recluse.”

He looks at her, then frowns at the stars above her head. “Don’t worry, my Calypso. The stars will not hurt you. You do not need to heed their warnings.”

✦0✦

“Papa!” Calypso cried as her father was dragged to the end of the world and as he screamed from the weight of the sky. She tried to lash out at these gods, but her power was not enough, and she was thrown back into the blackness.

She woke up on an island that smelled of jasmine and oranges, golden sand between her fingers. Her fathers screams echoed in her head, and she sobbed in the sand, never regretting loving her father but regretting that he was gone forever. 

She screamed at the stars as they twinkled over her. She watched as the first hero washed upon her shores. She forgot her father for the first time in years that night. But his brief love did not fill the void of the absence of her father, her sisters, her aunts, and her uncles. 

✦0✦

Many years later, a woman draped in a heavy cloth would climb Mount Tam in clothes modelled after those of her youth. She approached her father and asked a simple question.

“When the stars spoke to me, did you know what they said would come true?”

He looks at her, her eyes mirrored back at her. 

“I did not, my nightingale.”

“Why did you kill Zoë?” She asked him, and he hung his head.

“The death of your sister is my sin to wash away one day. I did not mean to kill her.”

“I do not believe you.”

He hangs his head. “And you are allowed to, child. I just hope you remember me for what I was when you were a girl, not who I am today. Give me this, Calypso.”

She looks at his father, the beauty of his prime gone. “Papa,” she says softly. “I love you still. I just wish you had not done what you did, and I could approach you and hug you again.”

“You should never have been a part of our war. You were still a child.”

She watches him for a moment after his confession, then murmurs a prayer for his soul to chaos itself, before turning away and pulling up her hood. 

✦0✦

Calypso’s Patronus was a nightingale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric/Literature references, In order of appearance:
> 
> "Open Hand, Closed Fist"...Cherry Wine, Hozier [Song]  
> “Wasteland, Baby!”...Wasteland, Baby!, Hozier [Song]  
> "...all of our fear and the fire of the end of the world"...Wasteland, Baby!, Hozier [Song]  
> “The Glamour and The Trauma”...Sober II (Melodrama), Lorde [Song]  
> “Just Another White Lie”...White Lie, The Lumineers [Song]  
> “Shun the Light”...Sunlight, Hozier [Song]  
> “The Altar (Is My Hips)”...False God, Taylor Swift  
> “Marching Through This World Alone”...Six of Crows, Gio Navas [Book-Inspired Song]  
> "...stolen drops of the sea, glimmering like pearls, rage in her mind forever, the poison reflected in their depths, as the storm inside him releases."...Running to Stand Still, U2 [Song]  
> "Ah la la la de day"...Running to Stand Still, U2 [Song]  
> “You’ll Be Alright, No One Can Hurt You Now”...Safe and Sound, Taylor Swift [Song]  
> “The Fifth In My Bones”...Slow it Down, The Lumineers [Song]  
> “Your Faith Walks On Broken Glass”...21 Guns, Green Day [Song]  
> "There was no end to his story"...Ruin and Rising, Leigh Bardugo [Book]  
> “We Sing The Nightingale Song Alive”...NIghtingale Song, Toad the Wet Sprocket [Song]


	9. Chapter 9

The face of her father was inches from hers, dark eyes clouded. 

N _ ot him, not papa.  _

“My daughter,” he said. Ama’s rage took her over and she didn’t register how different he sounded.

“ _ I AM NOT YOUR DAUGHTER _ .  _ NOT ANYMORE _ .”

“Ama, please—” His pleads didn’t register.

“How could you. Turn to this, when this is what took Mom? Join the very thing that took her from us?” She shrieked, remembering her mothers screams as she was dragged away by men in black, her father's sobs as he held his child back. 

“Ama, dear listen, please, the imperious cur—” She threw herself forward, glimmering blade in hand, anger and pain drowning out it all. For a second, she stood there, staring at the face of her father.

Then it hit her, the words finally registering...papa? Papa? “No, I’m sorry, no, I didn’t” What had she done? “—how, Papa, how—”

The voice that cut her off was cold, and Ama looked at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in abject fear, hands pressing against her groaning fathers wounds. But luckily, two of the demigods stepped forward to fight, and she started to drag her dad away.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she caught a glimpse of Professor Lupin and a slightly shaky Sirius Black behind him. “Ama,” he said gently, “It’s okay. We’ll get your dad.”

Her papa’s arms were slung over the men's shoulders, and they helped him away from the fight, and Ama followed, the tears streaming. They stopped near the wall, and the men fussed over her father. She watched them, turned away, and dropped to her knees, sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this is short. I'm sorry. :(


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth and Percy's talk on the train

“Hey, you.” He says, causing her to turn at his approach. She stands in the hallway between the compartments, lost in thought.

“Hey,” She replies.

“You good?”

“I’m good.”

“What’s bothering you?” He says, causing her heart to flip. He always knows when something’s wrong. He knows her like the back of his damn hand like he knows Riptide’s edges.

“I hate quests,” She groans, and he gives a sympathetic hum, brushing a stray hair off her face. 

“We’re going to be okay. We barely have to do anything,” he smiles at her, “This still isn’t our fight. It never has been, never will be.”

“I don’t like it,” She hisses between her teeth, glancing away. He doesn’t either, and she knows it. They all know it. 

“We’ll be okay,” He tells her, coming closer to press a kiss to her sharp jaw. She smiles, her thin fingers clutching his face. One of them takes a curl that’s fallen out of his ponytail, and she twirls it around her finger, the dark lock standing out against her browned skin. 

He pulls her a bit closer, whispering reassurances to her, before she pulls away, glancing at a compartment behind them for a split second. But that’s all it takes for her to smile lightly, revealing some of her too-white teeth. “Someone’s watching us.”

He can feel the stare on his back, so he doesn't even bother to turn around. He doesn’t care what one wizard thinks of him. He’s given up caring about mortals. “How’s Grover?” Annabeth whispers.

“Good. Spent a good hour lecturing to me about my sleeping habits over the empathy link last night, but he’s fine.” Annabeth smiles at the comments, brushing back his hair.

“He’s not wrong, you know?”

“Thank you, mother,” He says, flattening out his tone.

She rolls her eyes, “Way to make it weird.”

He smiles softly at her, “I try, love.”

She smiles at him, “Sweet gods, I love you,” He says suddenly cradling her head, and kissing her. She smiles, her nails brushing over his forehead and the thin white scar that traces his hairline. She brushes the baby hairs back, and her hands ache to touch where his soul was once centred on.

She doesn’t. There’s a strange feeling about her as she thinks about touching the place that once held every drop of mortality he ever had. It feels like…

Because it always feels like a goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Wednesday. Maybe on Sundays too if I feel like it.


End file.
